Alternatives
by cojack
Summary: C/7. Set in six different universes related to fanfiction story "The River of Time." Takes place immediately after the events in that story. Is there one you like best?


DISCLAIMER: It's Paramount's galaxy.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: C/7. Set in six different universes related to fanfiction story "The River of Time." Takes place immediately after the events in that story.

Is there one you like best?

#

ALTERNATIVES

Stardate 57817.2

#

Chakotay awoke with a start. He glanced around his small cabin, his heart racing. He felt a little disoriented, but soon realized he was back aboard the _Val Jean_. "Computer, what's the stardate?"

"Fifty-seven, eight, seventeen point two," the computer responded.

He was back. Right where, and when, he was supposed to be. It had all been a dream, but quite unlike any he had ever had before. He activated his communicator, and then hesitated. Was it even possible? He considered for a moment longer, and then said, "Seven of Nine, please report to my quarters."

"Understood sir," she replied mechanically, not unlike how the computer responded just moments before.

In several of the alternatives presented to him in his dream, his counterpart had been married to Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero-One. Chakotay went to the adjacent bathroom, turned on the light, and then splashed some water over his face to fully wake up. He stared at his reflection, trying to gather his thoughts, when the chime to his door sounded. The _Val Jean_, after all, was a very small ship.

"Enter."

Seven of the Nine entered immediately and stood at attention just inside the doorway. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Yes," Chakotay replied, and motioned for her to come completely inside the room. The door automatically shut behind her. He sat on a chair at a small desk beside his bed and Seven of Nine moved to the only other chair across from the desk in the room and sat. Chakotay knew she preferred to stand, but since he was more comfortable when she sat, she instinctively complied. She and Chakotay often conferred like this in his quarters, it being one of the few private places on the ship. Indeed, he was aware of some rumors amongst the crew that their relationship was a bit more intimate, but he ignored them and had never spoken to Seven of Nine about them as well. In fact, in recent months, he felt as if he was drawing away from the crew, letting Seven of Nine oversee most of the day to day operations of the _Val Jean_.

"I had a most remarkable dream," Chakotay began. "There were seven copies of myself, most with vastly different life experiences starting from the time The Caretaker drew the _Val Jean_ to the Delta quadrant."

Seven of Nine's ocular implant raised imperceptivity. "You wish to discuss with me contents of a vision quest?" Chakotay realized that he must have caught her off guard. She was probably expecting him to ask about ship and crew status.

"No. It was no vision quest. It occurred while I slept."

"You wish to speak to me about your dream?" she asked incredulously.

Chakotay smiled. That was something he liked about Seven of Nine. She always spoke her mind. In fact, as he considered it, there was much he admired about her. Could it be possible? He looked at her closely and noticed the corners of her mouth were slightly raised, evidently amused by him in some way. Perhaps she was even smiling.

"It was more than a dream," Chakotay finally said. "And considering I expect there is nothing new or exciting regarding the ship or crew, I do wish to speak to you about it if you don't mind."

"Of course Captain. Please relay the dream's content to me."

"Right," Chakotay said, and gathered his thoughts. "I awoke in a circular room with seven identical platforms. On each had been a version of myself. Four were in Star Fleet uniforms, two were in civilian clothes, and then myself. I was one of the last to awake, but eventually we all started to converse. As it turned out, all of us had apparently been brought to the Delta quadrant, but from that point in time, the individual timelines represented by the group diverged. It appears that my timeline diverged first from the others since they had all served as First Officer aboard _Voyager_."

"But from your records of the event, _Voyager_ was destroyed by the Kazon during the incident with The Caretaker."

"Indeed. In these other timelines, however, it was the _Val Jean_ that was destroyed. Of the six, two have been apparently detained in some manner on different worlds in the Delta Quadrant, three are still aboard _Voyager_ making their way back to Earth, and one had succeeded in returning to Earth with the aid of a Borg trans-warp conduit."

Seven again raised her ocular implant. "Fascinating," she finally said. "There are two things that occur to me. First, the fact that in our timeline alone it is the _Val Jean_ that is not destroyed suggests this occurrence is not a primary circuit of the cosmos."

"Explain."

"The Borg conducted some experiments with time travel. In those investigations, it was determined that our universe is not alone in the cosmos. Time in these disparate universes, however, does unfold in such a way that they remain close to one another. Imagine the cosmos as a circuit board with each universe a different path the electrical current may go."

"And so our timeline is a circuit branch with more resistance, and so the current is less."

"Precisely, at least as far as this analogy can take us."

"So you believe this was more than just a dream?"

"Impossible to say. But it is not implausible that you have somehow glimpsed other universes within the general cosmos through this dream. It might very well be the same with your vision quests, something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"What of your second thought?"

"I was just curious if there was any other mention of the Borg or Species 8472 in the other timelines in your dream?"

"Yes. In some cases, my counterparts spoke of an alliance that the _Voyager_ crew formed with the Borg to battle Species 8472 about six years ago."

"Unlikely. The Borg would have simply assimilated _Voyager_ and her crew to gain their allegiance."

"It wasn't made clear what motivation either _Voyager_ or the Borg had in forming the alliance. One of my counterparts mentioned the Borg attempting to take over _Voyager_ at one point, and from the reaction of others in the group, it was clear that they had shared this experience in their own timelines."

"That is more consistent with the Borg." Seven of Nine considered something for a moment. "Six years. That is about the length of time I have been aboard the _Val Jean_ with you."

Chakotay studied Seven of Nine for a moment. "Why in all that time have you not tried to assimilate the _Val Jean_?" he asked bluntly.

If Seven of Nine was insulted by the comment, she did not show it. "I am no longer connected to the hive, and I am no longer Borg," she stated. "As you know, I am human, like yourself."

"I know," Chakotay quickly replied, feeling guilty for having asked such a question in the first place. He again looked at her closely. She wore a loose fitting Maquis uniform that hid most of her remaining Borg armor. When she had been rescued from the damaged Borg cube, they did remove as much of the Borg implants as they could, but most of the Borg exoskeleton remained. Her skin was not as discolored as before, but not entirely back to normal either, and of course she still had no hair and the Borg skull cap adhered to her head remained in place. She did stare back at him with two normal looking eyes, although one was a cybernetic implant they had manufactured with the aid of a trading group years ago, the Borg ocular implant still visible outside the skin above her eye where her eyebrow should have been. "I know it has been hard on you. It was rough going at the start, with you rediscovering your individuality. I have always admired your courage."

"Thank you Captain. I must point out, however, that I could not have done it without you and the crew. It was your help and trust in me that made the difference." Seven of Nine turned away for a moment. She appeared a little uncomfortable, but it was hard to read her emotions.

"We have not encountered Borg activity for the last five years. It might very well be that the Borg was eliminated in their conflict with Species 8472." Chakotay offered.

"No," Seven of Nine said definitively. "The Borg is alive and well." There was disgust in her voice. Chakotay suddenly sensed a whirlwind of emotions just under the surface. There was obviously more she wished to say. He could only imagine what she was going through. Although accepted by most of the _Val Jean_ crew, she was still relatively isolated from them. They respected her, and perhaps unfortunately, feared her as well. It occurred to him that he was the closest person she had to a friend, and yet he was also isolating himself from everyone else.

"There was one last thing that struck me," Chakotay began tentatively, still looking at Seven of Nine carefully.

Seven of Nine waited patiently.

"In three of the timelines, my counterpart and your counterpart were married," Chakotay finally said.

Seven of Nine remained silent, but despite her best efforts, it was clear that she was surprised. She turned away, perhaps to hide the emotion, but Chakotay felt compelled to place his hand on hers that was resting on the small table between them. Her hand flinched slightly at his touch, but remained under his own.

"You know," Chakotay said. "It's got me to thinking. I've been meaning to speak to you about something..."

"In these other universes," Seven of Nine choked out, interrupting him. "It is likely my counterpart was never assimilated by the Borg,"

"Not at all. It was clear that in each case the _Voyager_ crew had freed her from the collective. In fact, two still referred to her as Seven. Apparently my counterpart and your counterpart fell in love in these universes despite the Borg or Species 8472 or anything else."

Seven of Nine turned back to look into Chakotay's eyes. What was going through her mind, Chakotay couldn't tell. How should he say the things he wished to tell her? Only now was he becoming conscious of his own feelings. Whether a dream churned up from his subconscious mind or something else, it had stirred in him emotions he had long suppressed.

Suddenly, Seven of Nine turned her hand so that instead of just resting on top, she held his hand as well. In an instant, Chakotay was convinced she shared his feelings. Was it the glint in her eye, or the half bemused turn of her smile that remained on her lips?

"They even spoke of having children together," Chakotay finally said, squeezing her hand slightly.

Seven of Nine seemed to be studying Chakotay's eyes. Finally she said, "what are you suggesting Captain?" Not mechanically, as she sometimes sounded, but almost in a whisper. Chakotay tried to clear his thoughts. What was he suggesting? In recent months he was beginning to loose his faith. Their long journey was dragging on, and he was withdrawing from the crew. Many days, it was only Seven of Nine with whom he talked to. Many days, it was only Seven of Nine of whom he thought. If she did share feelings for him as he was now fully aware he held for her, what exactly should they do about it?

"I guess I'm saying…" Chakotay began, and then faltered.

Seven of Nine squeezed his hand back. "Chakotay," she said. It was perhaps the first time she had addressed him by his own name. He quite liked it.

Chakotay held his breath. His mind a tempest of thoughts.

"Needless to say," Seven finally said. "I am quite unfamiliar with these feelings and emotions, but I think I know what you are asking, and the answer is most definitely yes."

#

5582-24-7235-1: Following description relates observations after spatiotemporal confluence of subject 7235 (see related files 7983-17-7235-1, 88492-12-7235-1, and 92675-23-7235-1 - three other associated timelines not observable). Confluence on 92675 initiated to influence adverse deviation/delay (7234/7235 pairing) – random factors/nominal deflection.

Start – E577:345:08.9

Subject 7234: "Chakotay, wake up!"

Subject 7234 then shook subject 7235 by the shoulders. Subject 7235 gasped, opened his eyes and sat up. After looking around their quarters, subject 7235 turned back to subject 7234.

Subject 7235: "What a nightmare."

Subject 7235 positioned himself closer to subject 7234.

Subject 7234: "You called out my name."

Subject 7235: "I was having a bad dream. I think it was a dream."

Observer's note: Subject 7235 described in detail the events recorded in spatiotemporal confluence (see file 92675-23-7235-0). Salient points described adequately, so deleted in these notes. It is evident that subject 7235 interpreted the spatiotemporal confluence as a simple oneirological experience. Subject 7234 listened attentively during her partner's description. It has been observed that this attribute in their relationships across timelines is consistent.

Subject 7234: "The Borg spent some time investigating the notion of multiple timelines. In fact, the research resulted after several attempts at time travel by Borg vessels to adjust the timeline were conducted."

Subject 7235: "Incredible, what were the results?"

Subject 7234: "In all cases, the Borg ships sent did not return. It was concluded that they were either unsuccessful in changing the timeline or they were successful but the changes were not realized in the original universe. In the end, further time travel was suspended. The results of the Borg research before the program was terminated as irrelevant, however, concluded that the universe is actually a collection of universes, or a multiverse if you like. The notion of an infinite number of universes with their own unique timeline, however, was determined to be impossible."

Subject 7235: "I suspect the notion of a single universe and timeline was deemed impossible as well?"

Subject 7234: "Precisely. To elaborate on a metaphor popularized by a 23rd century philosopher who speculated on the subject, time is fluid, like a river, with currents, eddies, backwash. Although there might be many channels in the river, some that diverge greatly from the main flow, there is a main channel and eventually all universes with their unique timelines in the greater multiverse return to this path."

Observer's note: At this point the representative from scientific acquisition recommended we terminate observations and target subject 7234 for recruitment. Although not precisely correct, subject 7234's comments were very astute and SA recommendation was to extract from timeline. Deviation parameter for this pairing started at 0.017 in a general deviation of -0.106 from median, and so this action was not considered.

Subject 7235: "So how many different universes are possible?"

Subject 7234: "It is impossible to say. More than one, but not infinite. Hundreds. Perhaps millions. Perhaps millions of millions."

Subject 7235: "To think, in many of those timelines, we might not be together. It has got me thinking."

Subject 7234: "About what?"

Subject 7235: "My counterpart whose universe and timeline was most like mine, the one where _Voyager_ returned to Earth nearly three years ago. He and his Seven have started a family. They have a newborn daughter."

Subject 7234: "Yes. I have been meaning to speak to you about that possibility. The Doctor has assured me that my remaining Borg implants shouldn't pose too great a risk during pregnancy. As I spend more time with Miral, I've been thinking..."

Subject 7235: "She does seem to prefer you as her babysitter."

Observer's note: Reference subject above is to 3 year old daughter of crew members who reside on same vessel as subjects 7234 and 7235. Oneirologic results indicate possible targeting in future (assign subject 7236).

Observer's summary: At this point, timeline proceeds at 0.15 in a general deviation of -0.106 from median, even though confluence not originally determined for this timeline. Target subject 7234 for follow-up observation at E577:367:00.0.

End – E577:345:09.3

5582

Key indicator (7234/5): -0.02 (13% improve)

General: nominal

#

Day 2915:

I had to check the chronometer to figure out what day it was. It's been over three months since I've written in this journal, and now I see just a week or so shy of eight years since Kathryn and I were marooned here on New Earth.

I had a dream last night that has left me disturbed. In it, I was presented with six other versions of myself in six disparate timelines. In one, I was still in command of the _Val Jean_ and _Voyager_ and most of her crew had been destroyed by The Caretaker. In three others, Kathryn and I were back aboard _Voyager_ and we were continuing our journey back to the alpha quadrant. In each, though, there were subtle, and indeed significant differences. In the fifth timeline, my counterpart's memory had somehow been manipulated and I was on a planet called Quarra, still in the delta quadrant. And in the final timeline, and perhaps most intriguing, _Voyager_ and her crew had made it back to Earth using Borg technology.

The whole experience has me reassessing my life here on New Earth and wondering about the fate of _Voyager_ and her crew. Did Tuvok disobey Captain Janeway's orders in this timeline, as he did in the other timelines, and contact the Vidians? If so, what was the result? Was the crew harvested for their organs? The thought makes me uncomfortable. More than that, I feel helpless stuck here on this planet. We've explored, we've mapped, we've categorized. In the end, it's not enough. The isolation is oppressive. I am so thankful for Kathryn's friendship and companionship. Perhaps without her, I would have gone mad. In the end, though, it's simply not enough.

Day 2916:

I reread much of my journal from five years ago when we witnessed the battle above New Earth between the Borg cubes and the alien vessels that were attacking them and discussed the events with Kathryn. One of my counterparts from my dream mentioned a "Species 8472" and I wonder if this was the Borg's enemy in the battle we had observed. Kathryn and I had set out to find and explore a Borg crash site, but never reached the wreckage before we had to turn back due to the onset of winter. Of course at the time, we had set out in our water craft along the southern river and not used the shuttlecraft that had been left us. Kathryn has suggested we try to find the crash site again, but this time with the shuttlecraft. I think she's as anxious for something to do as I am. She even teased me that perhaps I would find this "Seven of Nine".

The thought of finding the Borg wreckage and perhaps even some survivors is intriguing to me. We're going to fix things up around here for the rest of today and tomorrow and leave the next morning. A Wednesday, by my calculations.

Day 2917: Tuesday, Stardate 57819.1 – Basecamp, New Earth

Kathryn and I are both excited about the prospects of our adventure. Why we hadn't set out to look for the Borg crash site in the past five years, I can't fathom. We've continued to look for the cure to this blasted infection we have, but the prospects grow dimmer with each passing month. In those first few years, we had systematically explored the entire surface of New Earth, using our water craft and on foot for the areas near Basecamp, and then with the shuttle for the rest of the planet. We are the sole sentient inhabitants.

Perhaps it was the prospect of finding that some Borg drones had survived that had subconsciously made us forget about the crash site. Ironically, it is the prospect of perhaps finding that very thing that excites us most. I can't imagine they would still be around after all this time. If not rescued by the Collective and brought back into the hive, wouldn't the drones simply cease to function? I must confess, however, my knowledge of the Borg is limited. I can't seem to stop thinking about my counterparts in the other timelines who were married to a drone. Not a drone, however, but an individual who had been rescued from the Borg. Annika Hansen. Seven of Nine. Seven.

We've set the garden and our quarters on automatic for a possible extended absence and loaded the shuttle with supplies for a two week excursion. We also decided to retrieve all our instruments from the surrounding forest in case a magnetoelectric storm occurs.

It's so nice to see Kathryn giddy and happy again. I had forgotten. We've been joking with each other all day. I can't imagine how awful it would have been without her here with me all these years. Whatever we find, the change in our mood this adventure has brought to us is reward enough.

Day 2918: Wednesday, Stardate 57821.2 – South Wales, New Earth

We started off to the southeast towards the crash site in the direction we remembered from five years ago. Unfortunately magnetoelectric storms in the area west of South Wales over the Lone Islands interfered with sensors all day, so we were restricted to visual only. We surveyed much of the desert area east of our current location. Any wreckage should have been easily visible. Nothing.

Before dark, we set down in a clearing along the Tiber River at the edge of what we named South Wales all those years ago. A fun evening reminiscing about our scouting trips in those early years and going through a catalog of names from a dozen worlds to name the prominent continents, oceans, rivers, and mountains of our new home. Lots of fun looking over our maps and coming across Mount B'Elanna or the Plains of Neelix. Fun, but with a touch of melancholy as we remembered friends long gone. I wonder if we'll ever see them again?

Our plan is to continue to the southwest in ever widening arches. If the storms subside, I'm certain we could use sensors to find the site quite easily. It's not the season for it, however, and we might have to do it the hard way.

Day 2919: Thursday, Stardate 57822.9 – Selar, New Earth

Started as another frustrating day. Sensors useless, and now visual sighting south of the Tiber in the rain forests of Selar was slow going. Near dusk, our nerves were wearing thin and our friendly banter was getting a bit strained. That's when Kathryn spotted something through a clearing in the forest canopy. We had to land 200 or so meters away, but when we hiked back to the spot we were rewarded with some actual wreckage.

The twisted metal was from the outer hull of the ship. Blackened and melted during it's passage through New Earth's atmosphere. It was, however, obviously Borg. Even after five years, the trajectory of the impact was easily ascertained, and so we set out at daybreak to find the rest of the crash site.

Day 2920: Friday, Stardate 57823.6 – Selar, New Earth

After about a hundred or so kilometers from our first find, we discovered the Borg crash site. Unmistakable, with a good portion of the cube still intact. From a distance, it looks as if the cube is half buried in the Earth with the forest canopy coming up to its edge on three sides, and a long clearing on the fourth, likely caused by the cube itself when it razed the trees during the crash before coming to rest. It's likely that instead of being buried, however, a good portion of the cube was sheared off and it simply came to rest on its missing side.

We kept our distance and examined the crash site. There has been no indication that we were spotted or any sign of activity around the crash site except for the abundant wildlife in the area. Perhaps none of the drones survived the crash. I find myself melancholy at the thought. I think that I've been hoping that I would indeed meet someone, even a drone.

Day 2921: Friday, Stardate 57824.8 – Selar, New Earth

There are survivors. It's hard to imagine. We've observed about a half dozen drones in the area surrounding the northeast corner of the cube. We can't be entirely certain regarding the number because we are about a kilometer from the crash site in the jungle canopy on a small hill, and so the drones appear very much alike at the highest magnification of our small telescope. Sensors are still useless. They appear to be maintaining what might be a solar energy collector and other instruments in the area within about 30 meters of the makeshift entrance into the cube. They have given no indication they are aware of our presence nearby. It could be the Borg drone tendency to ignore intruders unless you are considered a threat.

One interesting observation we noted is that the Borg drones do appear to stop to speak with one another. Our telescope is not powerful enough to see if they are actually speaking, but the drones do appear to stop and face each other and sometimes even exhibit hand motions. This seems inconsistent with the drones still being connected as a hive mind, since verbal communication would not be necessary.

After considering our options, we've decided to contact the drones tomorrow morning. We'll walk to the site leaving the shuttle's transporters locked onto our badges and ready for an emergency beam out.

Kathryn and I are both excited about the prospect of "first contact". It's been eight years since we've spoken to anybody other than each other.

Day 2922: Saturday, Stardate 57826.0 – Selar, New Earth

We've met with the Borg survivors. There are six of them. They are detached from the Collective and have been unwilling, or unable, to establish themselves into a smaller hive mind. Hundreds of drones had apparently survived the crash five years ago, but when it became clear the Collective had abandoned them, only these six had chosen not to deactivate. What a waste.

Although they look like Borg drones, they do not act as such. In these five years on New Earth, the Borg drones have rediscovered their pasts and their individuality. All but one of them seemed eager to speak to us about what we knew of their respective home worlds. Unfortunately we had to confess that we ourselves had been marooned on this planet for eight years. For some, however, they were assimilated years before that as well, and so were happy for any information we could give.

The sixth drone was a female that held back from us. The others said it was because she had been assimilated as a child, and so really only remembered her time as a Borg drone in the Collective. In fact, they were surprised she had not been one of the drones who had deactivated itself soon after the crash. I felt drawn to her, and so after a time when Kathryn was talking to the group about the virus that was preventing our departure from New Earth, I slipped away and approached her.

She was studying me intently when I approached, but did not seem frightened and did not retreat. She remained seated on some metallic containers.

"You are Chakotay?" she asked suddenly. I suspected she must have heard us introducing ourselves when we had approached the camp earlier. I nodded.

"And you are from Earth, of Cholti ancestry?" Not quite, but close enough. I nodded again. Her knowledge of Earth cultures must be extensive, I suppose the result of Borg assimilation.

She seemed to contemplate this for a time, but never took her intense gaze from my face. I must confess I was unable to look away myself. There was something about her that seemed familiar.

"We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers," she finally said. "We are far from the bones of our ancestors."

"I dreamt of you," I replied, for I knew exactly who she was.

She has little memory of Annika, and when I suggested I simply call her Seven, she seemed satisfied.

Kathryn and Saychek, the nominal leader of the Borg group, are confident the surviving Borg data nodes contain the cure for the virus that inflicts us. After all, the Borg has assimilated Vidians. With our working shuttle, we are hopeful we might leave New Earth within a few months.

I don't feel as desperate, however, to leave now...

#

It was just two months ago that Chakotay had that dream. What a whirlwind of events that has led us here.

I was skeptical, as I always am, but Chakotay was insistent. As the efficiency monitor of the facility, I had access to all the personnel files, so I checked to see if there was anything unusual. At first everything seemed to be in order, but then I noticed that the starting date of nearly eighty personnel working in the plant had all been updated on the same day. The dates were now scattered over several months and the record of the previous entry had been erased. There was evidence of other tampering within these files. I was among these employees, and I knew the new date was in error. Could all these employees be crewmembers from _Voyager_? I thought. Sure enough, both Joe and Natalie were also on the list.

The one bit of information both Chakotay and I thought was wrong was the implication that Doctor Kadan was somehow involved. He had been instrumental in allowing me to deliver our son Robert without difficulty, and helped in the removal or mitigation of most of my cybernetic implants. When I inquired at the medical facility where Doctor Kadan was working, I found out he had been reassigned to a distant province about a year ago.

Perhaps I'm just naturally suspicious, but I suspected something was wrong with this transfer. It might have been my growing concern over the government's use of power and ever tightening control over life on Quarra. Opposition leaders who one day rail against the government and the next are supporters. It was my turn to convince Chakotay to travel with me to meet with Doctor Kadan personally.

When we did finally see him, after obtaining the correct travel permits and getting time off from our work, we were surprised he had no recollection of ever meeting us. This was totally unexpected. My medical history, with the extensive cybernetic implants I had that remained unexplained because of my memory loss due to dysphoria syndrome, had been classified as unique and he couldn't possibly have forgotten the twelve operations he had performed to remove and mitigate them.

He looked at me thoughtful, and then said, "I don't practice on dysphoria syndrome patients any more. I was removed from treatment research about a year ago."

"You founded that research," I said. "You were the pioneer."

"Doctor," Chakotay added, "we're not asking to be retreated. We just want answers about our memories, and if some might have been suppressed by the treatment."

Doctor Kadan looked thoughtful. "I suppose the treatment could have that side effect," he finally said. "I imagine even new memories could be created and implanted if one was so inclined."

Chakotay and I exchanged a look of concern. Perhaps, as in his dream, our memories had been altered. But if it was at the hands of Doctor Kadan, why was he being so open and helpful now? Might his memories have been altered as well?

"There is, of course, a way to reverse the treatment, but it does have risks," he said. Immediately I knew that we must reverse the treatment to reveal the truth. I didn't hesitate to ask for his help.

Fortunately, Doctor Kadan is as suspicious as I am. After we discussed with him our concerns, he decided the best course of action would be to clandestinely use the equipment to reverse the treatment. After an extensive self-examination, he discovered signs that he had indeed been treated for dysphoria syndrome as well, even though he had no recollection of this.

"So, who will be first?" Doctor Kadan asked. We were in the facility after hours, having avoided some government patrols and using my knowledge of facility security systems to bypass the alarms.

"Me," I replied. I sat in a chair and the instrument used in the treatment was positioned over my head. It took about ten minutes, but near the end of this time it was if a veil was lifted from inside my head. I remembered… everything.

Chakotay and Doctor Kadan looked at me expectantly. I knew now that Doctor Kadan had been the one who treated us originally. He had been central in the conspiracy of capturing star ships and reconditioning their crews to work on Quarra. And yet now, he had a new set of memories and had been quietly removed. Were those in power in the government responsible? The whole political system on Quarra, evidence of corruption and obvious tampering with the opposition using the dysphoria syndrome treatment was suddenly made manifestly clear.

"I remember everything," I finally said. "Doctor, please reverse the treatment for Chakotay, and then for yourself."

After Chakotay recovered his memories, he looked at me with concern. I asked Doctor Kadan to instruct me on how to perform the treatment reversal so I could perform it on him. He did so without hesitation. I decided to take a risk and performed the treatment reversal as instructed.

I was looking at Doctor Kadan closely and saw when his eyes widened and the veil was lifted. He stood up quickly, looking back and forth between Chakotay and me, perhaps expecting a confrontation. When none was forthcoming, he whispered, "I'm so sorry," and then collapsed to the floor. He sobbed there for a time saying, "my God, what have I done." Eventually, Chakotay lifted him and guided him out of the facility and to our lodging. We took a circuitous route to ensure we weren't followed.

With Kadan's help, we were able to filter through all seventy-three members of Voyager still at the energy plant through various medical facilities and perform the reverse treatment. We didn't want to arouse suspicion, so these were done over the course of many weeks, and once treated, everyone returned to their duties at the power plant. It was difficult working there knowing that some of those working with you might be in on the conspiracy. I suspect, however, that if Doctor Kadan had been treated to be silenced, the only ones that still had uncorrupted memories were the top officials in power in the government.

We located twelve other _Voyager_ crew members who had been moved to different facilities and were able to treat them as well. Another sixteen were identified in death records. Working conditions on Quarra are not as safe as they could be, and I suspect there is little reason to improve based on the government's use of drugs through the mandatory inoculations and now this new memory altering capability to pacify the populace. Captain Janeway and Commander Tuvok are listed amongst the deceased. This was a great blow to the _Voyager_ crew, but Chakotay has tried to rally us and ensure us that both would have wanted us to continue our journey back to the alpha quadrant. Tom Paris, B'Elanna, Neelix, Harry Kim, and a dozen or so more are still missing.

The day after Doctor Kadan delivered Chakotay and my daughter, Ixchell, Lieutenant Commander Carey finally located _Voyager_. Amazingly, it was in orbit about Quarra's moon, scheduled to be scrapped. It was relatively easy to commandeer a transport and board. The ship is in shambles. Obviously those who had taken her had no knowledge of how to upkeep the ship's systems, and during these past three years, these systems failed one by one. It took Carey and his team of engineers several weeks to get propulsion and transporters back on line. Fortunately they had all built up a great deal of leave time at their jobs, and so were not missed.

Once that was accomplished, we all worked our last day at our Quarran jobs and then put in our resignations. I don't envy the various high and mid-level managers, particularly those at the energy plant.

We are remaining in system and out of sight until we discover the fate of our missing crew members. The Doctor's program is gone and irretrievable. Fortunately, Doctor Kadan has asked to leave with us, and so Chakotay has made him Chief Medical Officer. Seven other non-_Voyager_ personnel have joined the crew, having been married to crew members in the interim, and there are now eighteen children of these and various other unions, including Robert and Ixchell.

I remain hopeful we will resume our voyage back to the alpha quadrant soon.

End first officer's log, stardate fifty-seven eight ninety-three point two – Lieutenant Commander Annika Hansen recording.

#

The Tracer lowered his weapon, and Kellin gasped. There was no pain, of course, but she knew the implications. There was a faint numbness in her chest and blurring of her peripheral vision. She turned to Chakotay, who was standing beside her, frozen with his hand on his communicator, having just called security. The numbness seemed to be expanding to envelope the rest of her. She imagined her memories being eaten by the monster now in her body, and wrapped her arms around Chakotay's frame. "Don't let me forget!" she pleaded. "Don't let me forget!"

Seven was standing behind the Tracer, who had materialized between her and Chakotay and Kellin just moments before. She was in Chakotay and Kellin's quarters preparing a meal for the three of them, which was their weekly tradition. Chakotay had just finished describing an intriguing dream he had the night before, and she was about to have served the first course when the Tracer appeared. The Tracer was paying no attention to her, so she used the opportunity to come up from behind him and take his weapon away. He offered no resistance.

"It is done. She will come willingly now," he said smugly. "You can take me to your brig, but by the end of the day, both Kellin and I will be leaving _Voyager_."

"It won't be as easy as you think," Chakotay, recovering from his initial shock countered stubbornly. "Your retro-virus will have no effect on our computer systems. This ship and crew are immune to your manipulations."

"Immaterial. You are not invulnerable. I was able to come aboard without you detecting me. Besides, Kellin won't even know who you are within the hour. I've considered this carefully. We are so far from Ramuran space, and you continue to move further away, your knowledge will become impotent and not affect us. I have chosen to let you live."

"You underestimate us," Chakotay replied, hatred clearly in his voice. "Why do you care? She's just one individual."

The Tracer remained silent, and Chakotay motioned to have the security guards, who now stood in the passage way outside Chakotay and Kellin's quarters, to take him to the brig. He'll deal with him later. He held Kellin close and ushered her out of their quarters towards sickbay. Seven noticed that she already looked confused, as if unsure why she was there or what she was doing. Seven followed close behind. She had studied Kellin's weapon for years and had not found a way to counteract the weapon's effects once discharged. She knew the Doctor had prepared some treatments to counteract the memory erasing effects, so perhaps there was still hope.

The Doctor examined the sensors again to make sure he understood the readings. "I'm sorry Kellin, Commander, as we've suspected, these treatments are having absolutely no effect."

Kellin was still conscious and looked around sickbay. "I'm on _Voyager_," she stated. Chakotay stepped up to her bedside and took her hand in his. She seemed startled, but did not withdraw her hand. She looked into Chakotay's eyes expectantly.

"It's OK, the Doctor is doing everything he can. We'll beat this."

Kellin stared up into Chakotay for several more long seconds. "There is another Tracer aboard?"

"Yes."

"I was hit by the Tracer's weapon?"

"Yes."

Kellin again looked around the rest of sickbay trying to make sense of the circumstances. A handful of _Voyager_ 's crew stood about looking back at her. Captain Janeway stood close behind Chakotay, looking concerned, and yet distant. The Doctor and Tom Paris both consulted instruments connected to the biobed. Seven was off on her own, still holding the Tracer weapon in one hand and incongruently what looked like a spatula in the other. She giggled at the sight of her. What was she doing with a spatula? she thought. From the look on her face, she quite possibly used it to disarm the Tracer. She giggled at the thought.

She recognized them all. After all, hadn't she just liberated a runaway from _Voyager_ with their help? But why was another Tracer here?

"Is the runaway Ramuran also here?" she asked.

Chakotay was confused. "The Tracer? He is in the brig."

"No, the Ramuran runaway I was after."

The Doctor looked up from his instruments. "Her memory emgrams are disappearing, Commander. I'm afraid there's nothing we can do."

Chakotay squeezed Kellin's hand and leaned closer. "Kellin, I love you. Fight this."

Kellin closed her eyes. It was hard to clear her thoughts. She pulled her hand out from Chakotay's grasp and rubbed her temples. "Why…" she began, then shook her head. "Why am I here?"

There was desperation in Chakotay's eyes. "You can't forget, Kellin. You can't forget the last five years!"

"Years?" Kellin replied incredulously.

Chakotay turned to the Doctor. He couldn't stay here to watch his wife forget him piece by piece. "Do what you can Doctor," he said and then stormed out of sickbay, on his way to the brig. Captain Janeway looked at the Doctor and frowned, and then followed closely behind her First Officer. Tom and the Doctor stayed momentarily, but also left, moving to another part of sickbay until only Seven remained.

Kellin looked up at Seven. "Seven of Nine," she said, but not as the close friends they had become, but only to express recognition. "I remember you still."

"How far back will your memories be erased?"

"Has it really been five years?" Kellin asked instead. She seemed alarmed by the prospect.

"Five years, two months, seven days."

"I don't know. Five years is a long time. The Tracer's weapon is not designed for such a gap, but already…." Kellin fell silent. She found it hard to concentrate.

"Do you then still remember something of your relationship with Commander Chakotay?"

Kellin searched her memory. "He was very helpful when I tracked the runaway to _Voyager_," she said tentatively. "I do find him attractive," she added hesitantly.

"He is your husband, and has been for the past two years."

Kellin remained silent this time. It was obvious to Seven the memory erasure had worked its way all the way back to when Kellin first appeared on _Voyager_. It was still unclear if these memories would be taken from her as well.

She considered Kellin a close friend. Perhaps even her best friend. In those first few months, Kellin's knowledge of sensors, and in particular cloaking technology had been invaluable in upgrading Astrometrics and _Voyager_'s shield grid. Indeed, the modifications had allowed them to slip by Borg cubes and other vessels undetected. Kellin was outgoing, comfortable interacting with the crew, and easy to work with. In fact, she was almost envious of Kellin, the way she fit right in from the very start. Seven still was uncomfortable in social situations, but in Kellin had found her first good friend. And through Kellin, Seven had also befriended Chakotay.

The attention Chakotay showered on his wife was amazing, and despite herself, Seven couldn't help but feel jealous. What right she had, she couldn't fathom. These human emotions were sometimes strange and often conflicting. She did admire Chakotay. He was honest, and had proved himself to be a good friend to her as well. And if she allowed herself to think of it, she was also attracted to Chakotay. If Kellin were to return to Ramora…

A thought occurred to Seven. Perhaps this situation could be salvaged. "There is little time and something I need to discuss with you," Seven stated, and moved closer to Kellin's biobed.

In the brig, Chakotay stared contemptuously at the Ramuran Tracer. "Get comfortable then," he said. "She will not be leaving, and neither will you."

"Let us leave that decision to Kellin," he replied calmly. "Would you force her to stay with you against your will?"

"You have no right."

"I have every right. Kellin knows our laws. She will not make the same mistake twice."

"We are well beyond your jurisdiction. How long will it take you to get back to Ramura?"

The Tracer remained calm. "We have fast ships. I would say three years. You humans are always stopping for one reason or another. We will return as quickly as we can to where we belong."

"Well, that will be three years for you to figure out what you're going to tell your superiors about loosing Kellin."

The door to the brig opened and Kellin and Seven entered. From his holding cell, the Tracer smiled. "Kellin, are you ready to go home."

Kellin ignored him and moved over to Chakotay. "You are Chakotay?"

Chakotay hesitated. She didn't remember. "I am," he said weakly.

"You are my husband?"

Chakotay nodded.

Kellin then turned to the Tracer. "How many Tracers are after me?"

The Tracer considered his response. "More than a dozen, at the start. You were quite a prize. Another Tracer trying to run. I almost had you early on, soon after you came to _Voyager_. It would have saved us so much time. Unfortunately, my ship had a simple malfunction, and it cost us five years."

"What of the others?"

"Given up, I suppose. I haven't seen another Ramoran in all this time. Come and I'll tell you all about it when we return to my ship."

"Are we really five years from home?"

The Tracer didn't answer, for Kellin didn't appear to expect an answer. Kellin turned back to Chakotay and seemed to be weighing something in her mind. She made up her mind quickly.

"Chakotay, let down the force field," Kellin said. Chakotay began to protest, but Kellin raised her hand to silence him. "Prepare to stun the Tracer."

The Tracer was the first to comprehend the meaning of her statement. "I won't stop. I'm not going back without you."

Seven stepped forward and handed Kellin the Tracer weapon. "It will be hard to find me," she said to the Tracer, "after we erase your ships databases and you don't even remember me or why you are so far from home."

She raised the weapon and pointed it at the Tracer. He turned, but there was nowhere to go in the holding cell. Chakotay immediately realized her intention and turned off the force field. Soon after the Tracer weapon discharged, Chakotay stunned the Tracer with his phasor. He then turned to Kellin. "You had me going there. I thought for sure you didn't remember me."

Kellin let the Tracer weapon fall to the ground, and stared at the Tracer slumped in the holding cell. "I don't remember you," she whispered. "I've just severed my link to Ramora. To everything I can remember. All I'm going on is the advice from a friend. My… best friend."

Chakotay looked at Seven, and then back to Kellin. "You do remember Seven?"

Kellin nodded. "After a fashion. I suppose it might be those Borg nanoprobes she injected into me in sickbay. Seven reminded me that I must have had some pretty good reasons for staying that first time, five years ago. She convinced me that it's worth figuring out what those reasons are a second time around."

Chakotay hesitated at first, but then moved forward to embrace Kellin. She returned his hug, and then backed away. "Let's take this slow, OK? We'll see."

Chakotay's heart sank, but to the side, Seven's heart soared. She knew she had done the correct thing, for both her friends. To have acted otherwise would have been unthinkable. The future was still to be written. Who knows what might happen…

#

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero-One awoke disoriented. Her internal chronometer indicated she had been unconscious for fourteen minutes. Something was wrong. The voices were gone. That last explosion must have disrupted the distribution nodes, and now she was severed from the Collective. This had happened before, so she was not alarmed. She stood and consulted the consol interface she had been working at during the attack. Indeed, the distribution nodes were inoperative, and likely unsalvageable.

Seven of Nine paused. Undoubtedly the Collective would come for the sphere and she would be rescued. She surveyed the scene around her. Nominally, she was in the command center of the sphere, although in fact the Borg ship could be controlled from any consol. Eighteen drones littered the floor in various positions. There was considerable damage and many of the drones had severed limbs, so she redid the count to make sure of the total. All dead.

Are we truly alone? she thought to herself. Of the forty-three drones on this sphere, was she the only drone to have survived? The thought gave her some … apprehension. She considered the unfamiliar emotion, but there was no sense dwelling on the issue. The first order of business was now to assess if this was indeed the case, coordinate with any other surviving drones, and start supplementing the sphere's auto-repair functions and make repairs in preparation for reintegration into the Collective.

She moved out of the room she was in to start her survey. As she started to walk, she realized something was wrong with her right leg. It was not functioning properly. She looked down and saw a tear in the Borg armor of her right leg and a piece of metal sticking out. It was not one of her Borg implants, but rather a piece of the support structure that surrounded the consol where she had been working. She pulled the piece of metal out of her leg and exposed an angry gash that glistened with blood in the exposed skin underneath. Nanoprobes began working to stop the flow of blood and repair the armor. It… hurt. That was the word for it, but she had to search for its meaning. She probed the wound with her left arm attachment, but there was nothing more she could do. She would simply have to ignore the pain, and limped forward.

In each corridor and room she entered, she quickly assessed the damage and sought out the drones. Twenty-seven now accounted for. All dead.

After surveying two-thirds of the sphere, her apprehension began to grow. What will we do if we are the only remaining drone? The damage to the sphere was extensive, and with only one damaged drone to affect repairs, it seemed unlikely she could get it operating again. Seven of Nine stood still and concentrated on listening for the voices, but all was quiet. One. Would the Collective come to retrieve one sphere or one drone? Thinking like this, however, was premature. She had not yet completed her survey.

Seven of Nine went to an empty alcove and checked the connection and power. It appeared to be operational. At least the sphere would be able to sustain the drones that had survived. She felt… relief. That was the word for it, but again she had to recollect its meaning. She was unaccustomed to thinking on her own. The hive mind had thought, but the individual components to that mind did not have to think. The drones did as the hive mind told them to do, as an arm moves or a leg walks. She did retain memories of the hive mind. "We are the Borg," she said to herself, trying to grasp the thoughts of the hive mind. These thoughts seemed elusive, however, and detached. Perhaps if she regenerated later, it would help clear her thoughts and the repair to her leg would proceed more quickly. First, however, she must complete her survey. Thirty-two now accounted for. All dead.

She approached a male drone that was slumped in an alcove and examined him more closely. He must have been regenerating at the time of the attack. There didn't appear to be any injuries, so she attempted to revive him. He remained unresponsive. Perhaps he had injuries she could not see. She examined him more closely and found no obvious trauma. To deactivate seemed inconceivable to Seven of Nine, but no other explanation presented itself. The battle had only ended within the hour, and the link to the Collective had only been severed for less time than that. She had spent three weeks in the vacuum of space severed from the Collective and had not deactivated herself, although she had been conscious only for that first day. Even with her injury, the thought of deactivation was repulsive. She thought of this some more. We had wanted to survive, she thought to herself. We needed to….

She cleared her thoughts. Perhaps the Collective would retrieve this sphere and her, even if she was damaged and alone again. Times were not as desperate now, however, as they had been during the height of the war with Species 8472. She tried to ignore these thoughts. Continue the survey, she told herself. She moved off into the next corridor and encountered three more drones. Thirty-seven now accounted for. All dead.

In the end, Seven of Nine found all forty-two other drones. Most had obviously died during the attack, but a half dozen had shown no signs of trauma and so must have deactivated themselves upon being disconnected from the Collective. She was damaged, but decided not to the degree to warrant deactivation. She spent the next several hours recounting the drones and placing them in the sphere's airlock for ejection into space. There had been no mistake. Forty-two drones were released into space. Her leg felt numb and her head throbbed with pain. It was time to regenerate and she would deal with repairs afterwards.

Annika was hiding in a closet. It was dark and her fingers felt sticky. A sweet smell lingered in the air and she licked her lips to taste… to taste… strawberries.

"Annika," a female voice called.

It was her aunt. She felt… guilty. She reached into the bowl she was holding only to find it empty.

"Annika, please come out. I know you're in there."

Seven of Nine stepped forward out of the alcove and stumbled as her right leg buckled under her weight. She shifted her weight and held onto the wall to steady herself.

"Annika… I know you're in there." The voice echoed in her head. She looked about her, disoriented from the interrupted dream. Annika. Annika Hansen. Memories of Annika danced in her head, just out of reach.

"I am…" she began, but hesitated. Her thoughts, however, did not coalesce. She needed a purpose, to clear her thoughts. "I am Borg," she said slowly. "I must repair this sphere."

She spent time now assessing ships systems. Some systems had auto-repaired. Life support and regeneration systems appeared to be functioning normally, although at less than 50% capacity. Seven sealed off most of the rest of the sphere from the command center in which she worked. Propulsion, weapons, shields, and many other systems, however, had failed to repair. The damage was too extensive. The auto-repair systems for these functions had stopped as well. Seven of Nine reasoned that propulsion was her primary concern. If she could get propulsion back on line, she would not have to wait for rescue but could return to the Borg on her own.

It was slow work, made more difficult by the increasing pain she felt from her injured leg. She continued working for a week. Fragmented and confusing dreams during regeneration, and a drive to complete the repairs when awake to keep her mind focused.

Impulse engines were almost repaired. Warp drive would be problematic, but no sense dwelling on that now. The Borg didn't seem to be coming, and so she had plenty of time. Something else was troubling her. Without the Borg and certainty of the Collective, what was her goal?

What is our purpose? she thought to herself. As the days passed, that same question had echoed in her mind. To seek perfection, came the answer. Strong and resonating at first, but eventually an echo. Grand schemes. Billions moving with purpose and as one. But to what end? She stopped what she was doing.

What is my purpose?

Suddenly she remembered a bit of her dreams, and a piece of her memory clicked into place. I am Annika. She closed her eyes and was enveloped in someone's arms. A memory. Her father, or perhaps her mother. The smell of lilacs. Security, a sense of belonging, love.

I am Annika.

Time to regenerate. It was difficult moving. She couldn't make her right leg function correctly. With much effort, she made it to the alcove, but collapsed to the floor. Tired. She closed her eyes. It would be easy enough to deactivate, but no. She just needed a little rest, and then she would stand up and regenerate. She will repair the propulsion system and then… Not back to the Borg, but where?

Seven of Nine opened her eyes, not certain how long she had been asleep. At first she didn't see anything different, but she was sure that the sphere had been boarded. Three humanoids had materialized at the far end of the command center and one was now making his way towards where she had fallen in front of the alcove. Resistance was futile. She could not move. The humanoid drew closer and Seven of Nine now saw he was wearing a uniform. The male figure was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't immediately place where she knew him. The pain in her leg was clouding her thoughts.

"Seven of Nine," the figure spoke in a deep baritone voice. "You are injured?" Without waiting for an answer, however, he came up to her and knelt down beside her. He quickly passed an instrument over her body and then focused down onto her right thigh. He was now only inches away from her, and she could clearly see his uniform and features. A human. Star Fleet. She then noticed a tattoo that covered part of the man's left temple, and her memory cleared.

"Commander Chakotay," she said.

Chakotay stopped his examination and looked at Seven of Nine. "You remember me," he stated.

"Yes. You did try to deactivate me. I can only imagine you figured I was dead, but you don't seem surprised to see me."

Chakotay touched the wound on her leg, and Seven of Nine winced. "I …," he began, but hesitated. "I'm here to help you."

Seven of Nine tried to process what was happening. The man tending to her wound seemed genuinely concerned for her well being. Chakotay. Is this what it meant to be human? He was now working to remove the Borg armor around the wound on her leg and tend to the infection that the nanoprobes had been unable to eliminate. The Collective had abandoned her, but all was not lost after all. She vaguely heard him access his comm badge and order an emergency beam out direct to sick bay, and then argue on her behalf that she posed no security risk. How could he be so certain, and yet she knew she would never betray them again.

Security.

A sense of belonging.

"I'm glad you came for me," she said and slipped into unconsciousness, finally giving in to the pain.

#

THE END

17


End file.
